


Ledyanoy

by judarchan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judarchan/pseuds/judarchan
Summary: It's risky, Yuuri knows. Anyone could see them here.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Krystal_Tsuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystal_Tsuki/gifts).



> My bae wanted Vic and Yuuri to do the do on the ice - who am I to deny her?  
>   
> It's totally plotless, sorry 
> 
>    
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything besides my own writing nor do I make any money off of my stories - all rights belong to the respective owners
> 
> Constructive criticism is always appreciated!

................................................................................................

 

It's risky, Yuuri knows. Anyone could see them here. But Victor is on top of him, his hands tracing his hipbones and his lips latching on his exposed shoulder, and he's not so sure if he really cares about being found out anymore.

He's laying on the algid floor of the ice rink, and yet it's doing nothing to cool down his heated skin. His cheeks are burning too, embarrassment and arousal chasing each other across his face. Victor's touch is ghosting over the edge of his sweater now, drawing it up to his midriff and gliding down his sides. Yuuri lets out a tiny, frustrated sound and cants his pelvis upwards, his neglected erection twitching helplessly against his stomach.

Victor stops nibbling at his collarbone and with a faint, knowing smile he whispers, "Hush."

Yuuri flushes darker at his own lewdness and turns his head to the side, his irregular breathing fogging the shiny surface. Another mewl escapes him when Victor's nimble fingers skim along his bare legs, gripping his knees and spreading his thighs as far as the sweatpants and underwear around his calves let him.

There is a brief pause before two digits are pressed to his lips.

"Suck." Victor orders gently. Yuuri faces him, looking up hesitantly, but he's met with an unwavering expression.

Does Victor really intend to do this here?

He casts his gaze down, uncertain, before opening his mouth. Victor's cold fingers expertly swirl around his tongue, wetting themselves with the saliva that's collecting underneath it. Yuuri chokes when the digits thrust against the back of his throat, his eyes water and he squirms a little, the ice beneath him now slippery from being in contact with his bare skin.

Just when it's getting too much, Victor retracts his fingers and holds them up.

"Thank you." His voice is smooth and calm, his movements graceful and calculated as he adjusts himself better between Yuuri's legs.

The full realisation of what's happening dawns on him when he feels the same two digits trace his entrance wetly. He doesn't even have the time to react before Victor slides his middle finger inside him. He lets out a breathless whimper, and his hand shots up to his own mouth to prevent any more sounds from escaping him. His eyes close to half-mast when Victor starts moving, careful yet unrelenting.

"I know it's not ideal, but it'll have to do." Yuuri hears him say when a second digit is added. Through his hazy mind he almost wonders what exactly he's talking about, but Victor's words make sudden sense when he feels the friction becoming more noticeable as the saliva dries out.His muscles clench reflexively and heat pools in the pit of his stomach, the slight burn somehow adding to the sensation.

He clutches Victor's shoulder, nails biting into the black fabric of his training shirt, and another gasp threatens to leave his lips when the other starts scissoring him open. It's swift and efficient in a way that leaves him aching and desperate, and he's painfully aware of his dignity slowly getting lost in the meanders of his mind, replaced by that unique kind of ardor that only Victor's presence can awaken.

He's about to beg when the fingers are withdrawn, leaving him empty and unsatisfied. Victor places a small, chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth before pulling away and sitting on his heels. He makes quick work of his pants, pulling them down enough to free himself, eyes never leaving Yuuri's. There's a ravenous glint to them as Victor leans forward and runs his hand down one of Yuuri's legs, inching lower until he's grasping the ice skate he's still wearing.

"We better take this off, hm?" A visible shiver courses through Yuuri, both from the gelid temperature of the ground and Victor's suave whisper. He finds he's incapable of doing anything else other than watch as his boot is unlaced and tossed aside and his sweatpants and undergarments are slipped off his foot. Yuuri props himself up on his elbows - he feels vulnerable and exposed all of a sudden, his eagerness momentarily dissipated, and he glances nervously to the left, where the main entrance to the rink is.

His worry is short-lived and his gaze is soon averted when his newly freed legs are spread apart and Victor settles once more between them with a devious little smirk tugging at his lips. He flips his silver hair in a practiced move, conscious of Yuuri's eyes on him. Those same eyes widen slightly when he spits into the palm of his hand and strokes himself in a slow and deliberate motion.

"Ready?" Yuuri nods imperceptibly, not trusting his voice enough to say anything.

He lays back down and bites the inside of his cheek as Victor aligns his length and pushes into him. He tries with all his might to remain silent - nonetheless, by the time the other's hips have met the back of his thighs, he's whimpering against his wrist. But he adjusts easily around Victor's girth, and soon he's tilting his bottom upwards, encouraging him to start moving. The first four or five thrusts are mostly effortless, however, by the sixth Yuuri inhales sharply, the saliva having dried out again completely and Victor's own fluids not enough to compensate.

"Had I known I'd have come prepared, but you're an unpredictable little vixen, aren't you?" Victor clicks his tongue, pulling halfway out before spitting once more on his fingers and promptly circling them around the taut rim of Yuuri's entrance. He repeats this twice more, until they're both sufficiently slick. Hadn't Yuuri been so aroused, he's sure he'd probably find this process vaguely disgusting, but then Victor grips him by the waist and thrusts forward and nothing matters anymore.

He can barely feel the frigidity of the floor he's resting on now, too taken by the delicious feeling of fullness and the gratifying stretch within him to actually care about the numbness that's increasingly spreading where his body is in contact with the ice.

The only thing he can concentrate on is Victor. His silvery lashes that flutter against his lower eyelid every time he drives his hips forward, the gasping sounds he makes every once in a while, the contrast of his pink cheeks to his otherwise fair skin.

The angle they're in makes each thrust deep and satisfying, and soon Yuuri finds he's unable to stop his hand from inching down and wrapping around his length. He strokes himself and he's wet and sticky against his palm, his fingers stuttering when Victor tilts his pelvis just so in his haste. He keens, thighs falling open wider, the blade of the skate he's still wearing indents the ice and creates tiny fractals that pattern the surface nearby.

They rut into one another, the crisp air fogging their laboured breathing, a matching desperation leading them to grasp at still-clothed backs. The melted ice beneath Yuuri makes him slide forward towards the rink border with each motion, frosty water soaking his sweater.

But the rhythm they've fallen into is soon brought to a halt by the familiar, annoying friction of the dried saliva against their skin. Victor makes a face and mumbles something Yuuri can't quite understand before repeating the same gesture he did earlier. This time his impatience shows, for he slicks them both hurriedly, all intentions of making this slow and sensual forgotten.

"Come on..." Yuuri utters in a whine, looking up pleadingly at the other. He gives a few more tugs to his erection, and he knows he must make quite the view because Victor regards him with such a salacious gaze that he has to avert his eyes, cheeks reddening anew.

And then they're moving again, clinging to one another and panting into each other's mouths.

"So beautiful..." Victor whispers against his lips before slithering a hand between their bodies and replacing Yuuri's. Everything seems muted all of a sudden, and Yuuri can't think and can't breathe - nothing gets processed but the steady pace in which he's stretched and stroked at once, and the clenching coil in his stomach gets tighter. His thighs tremble with the exertion and he can feel the burn of the ice on his skin even through the hazy arousal that's blanking his mind.

He doesn't care.

He wants this moment to never end, but he also wants to come with every fibre of his being, and the frustration only serves to bring him closer to the edge. Little broken sounds make their way out of his throat and he claws at Victor's shoulder blade, his other hand fidgeting on his lower stomach in a bid to stop or encourage - or both - Victor's movements.

Victor's thrusts are not graceful and precise anymore, and he's getting messy and uncoordinated in his chase towards completion. A few more moments pass before Yuuri screws his unfocused eyes shut, the familiar curling in his belly more and more intense. He tries to hold off for as long as he can, clinging to these last few seconds of bliss with all his might.

In the end, he surrenders to the pleasure that washes over him in waves that make him spasm around Victor and arch his spine as a silent moan forces his mouth open. It doesn't take long for Yuuri to hear Victor sob, a tremor shaking him, and then wet warmth is filling him.

Victor slips out of him and slumps forward, arms giving out. He buries his face in Yuuri's neck, and for a long moment they just work on calming their breathing, placing small kisses on each other's lips and cheeks.

It gets uncomfortable pretty soon, and once the afterglow is gone Yuuri is hit with the numb sensation in his backside from the ice he's been laying on. He's spent himself on his own stomach and sweater and his abdomen feels unpleasantly sticky.

Aside from feeling filthy, he's absolutely _freezing_ , and undeniably exhausted. Victor must sense his discomfort, because he gets up and tucks himself back in swiftly before helping Yuuri into a sitting position.

"Remember it's all your fault this time." Victor says with a wicked smirk, but there's no malice in his voice. He holds Yuuri and kisses him tenderly before removing the other skate and slipping the other pant leg past his foot and up his calf. Yuuri can barely find the strength to cooperate as Victor gently commands him to lift his backside so that he can get him dressed.

"We need to hurry before someone finds us like this. Can you stand?" Yuuri nods, and then he's being hoisted up, Victor straightening his clothes and bending down to pick up the discarded skates. It takes Yuuri a moment to regain his balance, and his sock-clad feet only manage to take a few steps before gravity works its magic and wetness trails out of him down his clothed thighs.

"I'm disgusting! How am I supposed to go out in public like this? It's all _your_ fault!" He says in an uncharacteristic burst of annoyance. True, they only had to walk to the locker room, but still. Victor regards him for a second before letting out a light, mirthful laugh. It's airy and contagious, and in that moment Yuuri is sure that's probably the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

Cold and dampness be damned.

 

Fin ♥

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- people, use proper lube irl please & thank you -


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